


worth dreaming for

by aetherae



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Tales of Vesperia
Genre: ANOTHER EXTREMELY SELF-INDULGENT AU SORRY, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, IDK HOW TO STOP MYSELF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-05-27 06:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15018236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aetherae/pseuds/aetherae
Summary: The hunter hunts, and the doll assists. That's all it's supposed to be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reversedoll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reversedoll/gifts).



> i have no sense of control when it comes to aus for yuri/estelle, i'm sorry. yuri = the hunter, estelle = the doll, and that's really all i got as far as making sense of this. it's a series of snippets based around the hunter's interactions with the doll in bloodborne but of course 1000% times shippier. a sense of time does not exist, a plot does not exist, this is really about as self-indulgent as it gets. HOWEVER, i'm extremely fond of the writing in it so like. here it is i guess.
> 
> also this is 500000% for rev, because who else is gonna care about this au with me LMFAO

She explains what this place is to him, although “explains” is putting it generously. The Hunter’s Dream. The waking world. He doesn’t remember much, but he knows that his hands itch to swing his sword against something. If killing’s what he does best, then so be it.

When the doll finishes answering his questions as vaguely as possible, she remains standing patiently with her hands folded. Whether she’s waiting for him to speak or to leave, he can’t tell. Doll or not, he wonders why she doesn’t speak without being prompted.

“Don’t you have a name?”

Her head tilts demurely, her pale pink hair hardly even swaying beneath her bonnet. “It’s as I said. I’m only a plain doll.”

He shrugs. “Everyone has a name.”

“Do you?”

He opens his mouth, and—nothing comes out. The hunter knows he’s good with a sword, knows that the idea of slaying beasts hardly even worries him, but he can’t even recall his own name. It should be embarrassing. There’s no derision in her eyes though, not even confusion. The doll only nods, gesturing towards the headstone.

“Seek the echoes of blood, good hunter. I will wait for your return.”

The hunter thinks he must have come to Yharnam with a purpose, even if he can’t remember what. There’s no reason to come to this hellish land otherwise.

But he thinks he’d like to dream again, too.


	2. Chapter 2

“Welcome home, good hunter. What is it you desire?”

The doll’s quiet, gentle greeting remains the same as always, no matter that the hunter returns with bloody footprints in his wake. It’s something he’ll attend to soon enough anyways, there’s something more important at hand. At least, it’s more important to him. He fumbles through his pocket for it, and despite the blood on his hands, the ornament remains unblemished. How it survived this hell, he has no idea, but the hunter thanks whoever might be listening for it anyways.

“This. I wanted to give this to you.”

Her glassy green eyes widen as she looks at what he has in his hand. A small glass flower, a paler pink than her own hair, with strings of gold beads dangling from its center. The hunter is no expert when it comes to fashion, doesn’t know a thing about attire if it’s not meant for battle equipment, but he remembers at least that this is worn in someone’s hair.

“What… what is this?” she gasps, her porcelain fingers barely even brushing against the ornament. Even then though, he’s not sure it’s the ornament she’s speaking of. “I-I can’t remember, not a thing, only… A yearning… What’s happening to me?”

The hunter has never seen the doll smile. Or frown, or laugh, or yell, or anything. Gentle and soothing though she may be, he wonders if the warmth he feels from her is only something he imagined all on his own. Just the sad dreams of a man lost in hell.

But now, she cries.

“What’s wrong? Was it something I said?” Even with her towering height, her head is too tucked down, he can’t see past her bonnet. Her hand still rests just above his own though, still just barely touching the hair ornament. He closes his hand into a fist, tries to shove it back into his pocket. “Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have done that. It was a stu—”

She stays his hand, holding onto it with both of hers.

“No, that’s not it. It’s… something I’ve never felt before. Tell me hunter, could this be joy?”

The doll still doesn’t smile. She drags in a shuddering breath even through her tears, tears that turn into jewels as they roll down her cheeks. If this is joy, it’s not a joy he knows. It couldn’t be the joy of a girl.

He opens his hand again, offers the glass flower to the doll, and laughs quietly.

“You know, I think it might be.”


	3. Chapter 3

The first time he catches her dozing off, he thinks he really is dreaming. Frankly though, it would be the most pleasant dream he remembers ever having 

Of course, she always looks peaceful even when awake. Calm, placid, as untroubled as could be. Like a doll, he thinks with a grim smile, just as she says she is. In his eyes though, she doesn’t give herself enough credit. A doll wouldn’t help. A doll wouldn’t care. And as surely as he knows how to swing a sword, he knows she cares.

Like this though, he could almost forget she isn’t human. Her breathing comes light and soft, hands folded neatly in her lap while her nose wrinkles at a stray hair tickling her face. He has his hand half-raised to wipe away her meager troubles before he even realizes. Maybe there’s no point to it, maybe her physical reaction is more automatic response than actual feeling, but for all the doll does for him, he thinks this is the least he could do for her. An easy, soothing sleep. Someone here ought to have one, anyways.

As if sensing that small movement, she stirs awake, blinking slowly before she stands up. He retracts his hand, but if she notices, she doesn’t say.

“Ahh, welcome home, good hunter. I must have drifted off…” Her gaze, steady on him as ever, flickers back and forth between him and the ground. He thinks her head seems just the slightest bit tilted down, her clasped hands curled ever so slightly.

She’s embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, smile easy and comfortable. “You can sleep if you want.”

The doll shakes her head. “I am only a plain doll, here to wait for your return. Sleep is unnecessary.”

“You wait for me to come back so you can help me, right?” She nods, and his smile widens as he rests his hand against his hip. “Then if you drift off again waiting, tell me if you dream. That’ll help me.”

As always, she doesn’t smile. Her lip twitches, but when she raises her head back up, her expression remains as serene as ever. This time though, her eyes stay steady as she looks down at him.

“Very well, good hunter. I will.”

It’s enough.


	4. Chapter 4

“Farewell, good hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world.”

He doesn’t know what ‘worth’ is here. He’s not even sure he’s ever tried looking for it. All he ever finds are beasts to slay, monsters to slaughter, and that suits him just fine. Hour after hour, kill after kill, the only thing he has to show as proof of what he’s done is the blood on his blade. But whenever he comes back, whenever he dreams again, she is there. She takes his bloodstained hands in her porcelain ones and holds them like he’s the most precious thing she’s ever seen.

So instead, he tells her, “I’ll come home soon.”

For a moment, he almost thinks he sees her smile.

And that’s worth more than anything in the waking world.


	5. Chapter 5

The next time he sees her, she’s fiddling with the side of her bonnet, hair ornament clasped in her porcelain hand. Even having seen otherwise already, it’s still a shock to find her doing anything other than awaiting his return.

“You need help with something there?”

“Oh.” Immediately, she stops her fiddling and sets her hands in front of her, stands up to face him the moment he reaches her. “Welcome home, good hunter. There’s no need to trouble yourself with me. Is there something you desire?”

Always so insistent on helping him first. Only helping him, really. For once, he’d like to see her think of herself a little. He shakes his head and sighs. “Not really. You sure there isn’t something _you_ want though?”

“… It is nothing.” She looks to the side, clutches her hands together tighter. Even so, the hair ornament remains held firmly in her hands.

He smiles.

“That’s meant to be worn in your hair, after all. I can put it up for you, if you want.”

The doll looks down at the ornament in her hands, shifting it so the light hits it one way then the other. In this dream, in her hands, it shines even brighter. She looks back up at him and nods. “I would be most grateful, good hunter.”

At that she takes a seat, silently offering the glass flower for him. It’s a good thing too; despite his offer, he has no idea how to actually put this in her hair properly, and her full height would only make the already puzzling task even more difficult. He takes the ornament gently though, as if picking an actual flower, and brushes back her hair behind her ear. His hands feel clumsy as he tries to set the accessory in place, fumbling as he tries not to push her bonnet back. The doll sits patiently through it all, never fidgeting or moving. Even when he has to brush her hair back multiple times, she stays as still as the first time he saw her.

Finally, he sets it in place.

“There.”

He takes a step back, and even set against the dusty roses of her bonnet, the glass flower looks as if it always belonged there, vibrant and blooming. With her green eyes open, it almost looks real. Alive.

The hunter should kill the thought. This is only a dream, he knows.

Instead he swallows, smiles and says, “It looks good. Suits you, actually.”

She reaches up to brush her fingers against it carefully, and without any prompting, stands up and walks to the nearby pool of water. He follows after her and watches as she looks down at her reflection, and she bows down to look even closer.

When she stands back up to look at him, a single jeweled tear slips down her cheek.

“Thank you, good hunter. I love it.”

His heart pounds in his chest, and he knows. No matter the thrill of the hunt, no matter what he came to Yharnam for—

This is what he lives for.


End file.
